Devils Cup
by Suma Akila
Summary: There's no escape from the madness that has threatened for years. Harry just didn't know that his descent into madness was inevitable from the moment the Avada Kedavra curse was thrown at his mother. SeverusxHarry
1. Chapter 1

**I know. I haven't updated any of my other stories in a very long time, but I will make up no excuses. The only one that I can give, at least for this month, is that I have been absorbed with my first year at nanowrimo, and it would be childish of me to give any other excuse than that. My other stories hold no interest for me while I am working on my novel, though this literally popped out of nowhere while I was listening to Toxic by Yael Naim. I hope you enjoy it, and I have no idea how long it will be. **

**Devils Cup**

**Falling**

He slams his fist into the nearest wall and felt his knuckles crunching with the blow, his free hand yanking desperately at chunks of his black hair as he struggled to rein in his emotions. He stood just outside of the room that kept both Hermione's and Ron's body, his eyes burning as he jerked his forehead towards the wall in order to try and chase the anguish gathering in his chest.

_It's not fair, _his thoughts supply him mutely, as if he couldn't have realized it without thinking it. He feels the tell –tale burn at the corners of his eyes as his throat constricts and he scrabbles at the plaster walls, his knees weakening on their own accord.

_Why? Why, why? _The single worded question runs through his mind over and over again, flooding his mind hopelessly as his knees finally give out beneath him and he thumps to the ground with silent tears finally breaching his lids and pouring down his cheeks as he stares blearily at the wall that he had just bee abusing with his hands.

_Just close your eyes, _Hermione's weak voice whispers in his mind in memory, her beautiful pale face twisted into a smile as she looked up at him from the bed in which the healers had placed her in, her brown hair sticking to her sweaty forehead as tired eyes skimmed over his face. On a bed beside her, Ron laid weakly, a strained smile curling on his lips as well. They both sported the signs of the curse they had been hit with, their bodies skinny and nearly boneless. He was surprised when a too cold hand wraps around his wrist, causing him to jerk his thoughts and attention back to Hermione, his anguished green eyes staring into her own muddied cocoa.

He had grappled with his words but had nothing to offer her, the battle between him and his grief closing in on him faster than he would have liked.

Ron's voice cracked into existence but Harry merely looked down at his feet, his hand clenching tightly onto Hermione's wrist as his world started crumbling around him one word at a time.

_You're safe now, mate. _The words came with such relief and sincerity that Harry had nearly lost it then and there as he watched Hermione reach across the space between their beds and Ron met her halfway, their hands closing and entwining fingers with each other as they shared a sad, poetic smile between them. It was so full of love for each other that it made Harry choke up and look away, fists clenching.

The brilliant witch was the first one to go when her eyes had turned glassy and her hand tried but failed to keep a grip on Ron's hand, her body fighting the inevitable death that was boring down upon her, heedless of her struggles.

She gasped once, then twice, and her clouded eyes turned from Ron's horrified and desperate face to look at Harry, her lips twitching into a barely there smile against the pain as she reached out towards him slowly. He went to reach back, to hold her hand in the obvious agony that she was feeling, but just as his fingertips brushed hers, her arm fell limply back at her side and the light faded from her eyes as her lips parted in a last, silent 'Oh' of enlightenment.

_No, _Ron had whispered out, brokenly, as Hermione's grip went slack in his hand, and the young man struggled fruitlessly not to allow himself to dissolve into tears. The attempt failed in the end the red head clutched tighter to the rapidly cooling hand, his face scrunching up as he let out a broken sob as his eyes turned on Harry, as if he had the answer on how to bring her back, to make it a lie that she had died in the first place. The young red head had followed his lover into the next life with ease, slipping from his body as if he had been drug by Hermione herself without the intent of fighting against her as her spirit coaxed him into her own realm.

Now, standing outside of the room, he feels as if his ribs were attempting to pierce his lungs with every inhale that he took, his throat constricting and convulsing as he dry heaved towards the floor, the hot tears tracking down his face and staining the front of his robes.

It was too much, _too much, _and he found himself slowly but surely delving into the darkness that had been trying to consume him for years.


	2. Chapter 2

I have decided to change this to a SnapexHarry pairing, because I am the author and it is my prerogative. Also, I have decided not to write in present tense, so this second chapter reflects that. My apologies to anyone who is annoyed by this but, alas, my muse cannot be appeased unless I do what it tells me to do (the annoying little thing, but don't tell IT that or it might disappear.)

So without further ado, here is chapter two. Things will seem to pick up quite quickly already, I think.

**Devils Cup**

Harry didn't eat dinner that night, nor any of the meals following that day. He chose instead to burrow himself into the dorm room, punishing himself by being so close to Ron's painfully empty bed, and he nearly missed Ron and Hermione's joint funeral.

Almost. He kind of wished that he had.

It seemed like the whole student populace of Hogwarts was there in attendance; with the exceptions of the Slytherin's. There had been no snakes in the crowd at all.

Not that that had mattered.

When the funeral had ended with a hysterical Molly sobbing on her knees beside the fresh graves and a grave faced line of male Weasley's watching in grief, Ginny Weasley had rounded on Harry with a look of pure fury written over her pretty face.

"_YOU!" _she had shrieked out, making the people who had been departing pause and look their way with expressions ranging from surprise to curiosity as she stomped closer, her finger pressing into his chest as her eyes blazed up at him in accusation. _"Where were you when Ron needed you?! Why are YOU the only one still alive?" _

Harry hadn't been able to answer. He stared down at her blankly as he tried to muster up something, anything, to make her understand… to make himself feel anything. But he had broken that night; had broken so far that he wasn't even sure if he could feel anything at all anymore.

At least emotionally; he surely felt it when she reared back her right hand and slapped him with as much force as her petite little body could muster… which was actually a good amount. His head snapped to the side and he relished in the feel of the stinging burn in his cheek and jaw and tasted a bit of blood in his mouth from where he had bitten the inside of his cheek on impact. He deserved that, he knew.

She was saying something again but he didn't wait any longer to hear. He blinked and straightened to move around her and kneel next to Ron's gravestone, ignoring the stares of the Weasley family, and reached out to place the object that he had had fisted in his hands on the small mound of dirt, the bound golden snitch glinting in the fading sunlight. As he stood back up silently he allowed his fingers to trail over the cold stone that read _Beloved Son, brother, and soul mate, May you rest in peace in a better place_ and turned away to move back towards the apparition point.

…..

His glasses slid down on his nose but he did nothing to correct them. He didn't honestly care about them, nor about the fact that his wild hair was even more unruly than normal. Nor did he care about the fact that his bangs were hanging in front of his face, or that his white shirt beneath his robes was not buttoned up all the way. His tie hung tied limply around his neck, dangling without a care, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes that told the story of his sleepless nights.

He couldn't remember what day it was, or what month. He knew he had sequestered himself away for quite a long period of time in the Gryffindor dorms after the funeral and he had lost count as to how many times his other roommates had come in and out of the room as they started and ended their school days. No one bothered him and no one asked any questions. Madame Pomfrey had come a few times to make sure he was still alive and had force fed him numerous potions but she had never tried to coax him out of his bed. Dumbledore had stopped by once in the entire time, right after the funeral, but had not said anything more than _take your time, Harry my boy. You need to grieve. _

He sat in the Great Hall for the first time since then, staring blankly at the table in front of him. Most of the Gryffindor's gave him a wide berth and for that he was thankful. He could no longer relate to them. Despite Ron and Hermione's death they continued on like nothing had happened. They laughed and played Quidditch and bantered with each other on who was the worst professor; Binns or Snape. It was apparently a close call. That is what they were going back and forth about today, the first years listening in with amusement on their faces and slight disbelief in their eyes as if they could not believe the older students were talking out loud about a couple professors.

Harry kind of wished they would all just shut up.

Speaking of Professor's… he turned his dulled eyes towards the long table at the front of the room and sought out the one person he thought maybe could relate to him. The potion's master had been the one to brew the potions for Madame Pomfrey to administer to him, and he had even had to come to Harry's bedside a few times when the mediwitch had been unable to come due to something else that came up. The man had never said a word to him but Harry didn't mind that.

The Potion's Master didn't say anything to anyone anymore.

Harry could see the white bandages wrapped around the man's throat even as far away as they were from each other and he could detect the slight discomfort in the man's face every time he swallowed a bite of food. When Snape had been attacked by Nigini trying to protect Ron, Hermione, and Harry, he had taken the full brunt of the Dark Lord's fury… for helping them, and for being revealed as a Spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He was drawn back from his moment of staring when someone threw a hot buttered roll past his face to hit another student.

He was debating on whether he should just get up and leave, food untouched, when the large doors to the Great Hall were flung open with a sort of gusto that made the chatter die down into silence almost immediately upon the entrance of three smartly robed Auror's that strolled up to the Head Table with grim, serious expressions on their faces. Before the Headmaster could stand up fully and ask them what their business was, the lead Auroror brandished his wand towards Snape and spoke in short, clipped tones.

"Severus Tobias Snape, you are hereby under arrest for willingly taking the Dark Mark and being under the command and control of You-Know-Who by testimony of a few prominent members of society. You have been sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. You must hand over your wand immediately for snapping and should your resist apprehension we are under orders to use any means necessary to subdue you or kill you."

The Great Hall was silent. Headmaster Dumbledore was silent with a look of astonished disbelief written across his face. Professor McGonagall looked as if she were about to try and transform into a snarling version of her normal feline self. And Professor Snape…

He looked scared.

The man's dark eyes darted to the Headmaster but found no comfort in the expression on the old man's face. He blinked and looked back to the Auror's as he shook his head in a back and forth motion but Harry could not tell if the man was refusing or if he was denying the fact that they were actually telling him he was going to be imprisoned.

"Surely there must be some sort of mistake, gentleman. Severus Snape has always been a loyal part of the order of Phoenix and was tantamount in many attacks against Voldemort and he gathered information against the Death Eaters quite often. I am sure that if you-"

"Even you cannot save him now, Headmaster. Anyone with the Dark Mark on their arm is to be imprisoned, no matter their reasoning behind joining. Now, I will not ask again. Hand over your wand or I will use force in order to get it."

The Auroror's voice was hard and cold and Harry found something within himself stirring. The raven haired man at the table stood up slowly, shakily, and the back of Harry's throat started to burn. He realized, quite suddenly, that Snape was too pale and too thin. His hair, as greasy looking as normal and a bit disheveled, looked a bit more lankier than normal. And when Snape met his own eyes from across the room Harry could hear the echo of the man's hoarse, whispered and frantic words rattling in his mind.

_Look... at me… _the pleading last words of a man who believed himself to be dying.

Then Severus Snape was bound with a flick of a wand and levitated stiff as a board towards the awaiting three individuals who had come to pick him up.

That foreign feeling inside of Harry swelled up instantaneously and he nearly fell over the bench he was seated upon in order to scramble to his feet. For the first time in so very, very long, Harry Potter felt _something. _His chest constricted as he opened his mouth in order to say something, anything, but his words never came because the Auroror's activated a _Portkey inside of Hogwarts _and were gone with a small sound to announce their departure.

His chest tightened more and he felt like his throat was closing up on him as he stared at the place that the four had disappeared from and he realized that he _couldn't breathe!_

They had taken Snape. They had stolen away the only person that linked him to the day that Hermione and Ron had died. They had taken away the man who had chosen to show him his past while he thought he was dying instead of healing himself, for Harry's sake.

They had stolen Harry's remaining thread that bound him to sanity.

…

**Like it? It's a bit different from the first chapter, like I said, but whatever. I hope it met standards, and I bet you can wait to see what Harry does in the next chapter. Talk about losing your mind! **


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